


Hideaway

by icewhisper



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewhisper/pseuds/icewhisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Pre-OUAT] Surviving didn’t always mean fighting. Sometimes, it meant hiding and curling up into the smallest ball you could in some effort to protect yourself. Most nights, it’s all Bae could stand to do as he hid from Pan. Neverland wasn’t the happy place old stories said it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hideaway

He could hear them. Far off, he could hear them, some of them laughing and some of them crying. Joy. Sadness. The childish glee that had drawn all of them to this place at some point, youthful and eternal, was still there. Some of them regretted it now, missing their parents and their beds and the home that they’d abandoned like it had meant nothing when it meant everything, but they’d figured it out too late.

Pan would never let them leave. The ones that had begun to doubt him and yearn for home… It didn’t matter. In the end, it didn’t matter, because no matter how much they cried, they’d never leave this island. Pan’s rule was complete, power reigning over the Lost Boys and the island.

The wind blew through his little hideout and Bae shivered, his arms wrapped tight around him as he pulled his knees up to his chest. It wasn’t raining, at least. Small blessings.

“Peek-a-boo…”

He flinched at the sound of Pan’s voice, breathy and mocking, and shuffled back into the dark a little more. It was stupid, just some attempt to make himself feel safer, but Pan knew he was there. He always knew where he was. The Lost Boys. His shadow. The _island_. The only one he could trust to not rat him out in this place was Tink, but he hadn’t seen her in weeks, not since they’d split up in some pointless effort to stay hidden.

He missed her.

“Papa…” He winced at the sound of his own voice, more at the want and the grief than at the fact that he may have given Pan that much more power over him. Pan mocked him, teasing him with secrets that he wouldn’t tell and pretending that he understood the pain he’d been feeling. He didn’t, but that didn’t mean he should have been aching for the comfort of his father’s voice or the familiar touch of a hand on his shoulder. He shouldn’t miss someone that left him.

But he did. That was the whole problem. He spent so much time running and hiding here that he didn’t have the time to focus on the anger and the hurt the memory of his papa still made him feel. None of that mattered on nights like this, though, not when fear was making his heart beat so hard that he thought it would burst from his chest. Not when he knew what was waiting for him when and if Pan decided to swoop in.

Pan’s voice was mocking, but he knew the rage that was behind it. He’d made him mad, sneaking into the camp to steal supplies. It wasn’t as if he’d taken anything of importance, but it was the fact that he’d _done it_ , that he’d managed to sneak past Pan’s defenses for even a moment.

In the few moments he ever had in his favor here, he wondered if maybe the island liked him a little bit. The island was Pan’s, though, playing into the games the other teen liked to play, and Bae knew in his gut that this was another one. The island was just playing the game. There was no fun if Pan’s plaything died in one of his hideaways.

“Crying for papa, Baelfire?” Pan’s voice drifted through again. “He’s not coming. He left you. Let you go and-”

Bae clapped his hands over his ears, his breath shuddering. Don’t listen. Don’t listen. Pan was just trying to goad a reaction out of him, trick him into being the one that made the first move in an attack. He always hurt worse after those, bleeding and aching and trying not to cry.

Don’t listen…

He shifted enough that he could lie on his side, still curled into the smallest ball he could manage. It was smaller than a boy his age should have been able to do, but he was too thin now. Like his papa would get when they didn’t have ebough for both of them to eat.

God… Papa…

He didn’t have it in him to hate his father some nights. Didn’t have the strength to force the anger through the fear and the pain, because his last happy memories were with the older man. Safety. _Home_.

He pressed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself. If he stopped reacting, Pan would give up for a while. He’d stew and move on to whatever else was happening. Maybe try and figure out what was happening to the island and why the sun never seemed to rise anymore.

Stop reacting.

Sleep.

He needed to sleep.

He didn’t think he’d slept in days.

Exhaustion claimed him more than he really gave into it, too tired to even react to the flashing memories of his papa and the portal.

_“You promised! Don’t break our deal!”_

Darkness, comforting for once. Peace. No Neverland. No pain. He dreamed instead, his heart calming and feeling a little lighter as his mind conjured up a picture of a girl. Strange clothes. Thick-framed spectacles. A blonde ponytail. She smiled at him and warmth seeped into his body as he settled down.

At least he could dream of something that felt like home.

The End


End file.
